“The way to a woman’s heart…”

She walked into the apartment cursing as she tripped over our kid’s toys and then collapsed into the over sized comfy chair. I heard one, then two clunks hitting the floor as she kicked off the dark brown leather knee high boots. Yeah, I pegged this night right. She was done for and needed a break.

Our son was already tucked in and fast asleep. I’d run him ragged with trucks, trains, piggy back rides and Olympic bed diving (German judge gave him a 9.6) just so he’d be exhausted and sleeping by the time she got home. Before even a hello kiss, I handed her a glass of red wine. Cabernet, dark berry red and our favorite bottle. After a deep sip, we kissed and she settled back into the seat. Suddenly, her nose crinkled up and eyes fluttered open.

“Yes,” I said, “dinner is almost ready.” I left her there, drinking wine, drifting to the sounds of soft music and breathing in the aromas of the coming meal.

Being a chef has its advantages and I knew it was probably at least a third of the reason she’d married me. One evening, early into our relationship, after a fun night out getting crazy, we were in bed recovering from another round of our own crazy. I pulled her against me and whispered, “How would you like it if i made you breakfast, lunch and dinner tomorrow?” She squeezed me so hard I knew some sort of woman fantasy had just been fulfilled. Ever since then, the cooking has been my job and she does the cleaning. It’s more than a fair trade. I get sex, loving and cleaning done on a regular basis by a hot as heck woman who also laughs at my jokes. My man fantasy has been fulfilled too.

“Dinner time,” I say, watching her drag her tired body to the table. Her eyes lit up at the candles, wedding china set for two and a wood cutting board in the center of the table piled with two rib eyes thick as her wrist.

My loves’ other favorites were there too. Herb roasted potatoes, garlic butter mushrooms and crisp tender asparagus. A crock full of Lemon aioli sat alongside the vegetables waiting to be dunked. On each dinner plate sat a small dish of sliced pears with truffle honey that I’d brought back from a cooking trip in Tuscany.

My wife is drooling, her eyes half closed, anticipating the coming pleasure of this meal.

When I went to hold her chair she grabbed me with a big hug of thanks, pulled back and gave me a kiss that floored me. Nice, now I’m getting hungry. Watching her dip slices of pear one by one in the honey flecked with bits of black truffle was fun enough, but that evil smile on those soft lips as she ate made me just a little bit jealous. My woman was really enjoying herself and the meal was just starting.

Guys, you may be asking yourselves, “Where’s the delicate salmon fillet and pretty salads that women always eat?” That’s a bunch of crap. Strong sexy women like to eat real food and they want a man who will give it to them.

We didn’t say a word till I’d cleared the small plates and took our first bites of the salt and pepper crusted rib eyes. A properly cooked steak needs no extra sauce. Salt, pepper and drippings are all you need.

Man this is the way to eat! She was in heaven. We took our time with the rest of the meal, talking about her day and what we had to do this week. When she was ready, I served her my simple but decadent dessert: a small scoop of vanilla ice cream with a shot of Amaretto poured over it, with an almond meringue cookie crumbled over the top. Easy as 1-2-3, but the real treat was watching her lick her way to the bottom of that glass.

My wife would fall asleep as soon as she hit the sheets. Fine with me, there will always be another night.